Hindsight
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: Sometimes, in the dead of night, Rachel would think of what could have been. AU.
1. Chapter 1

*0*0*

Hindsight

*0*0*

Sometimes, in the dead of night, with the moon high above the city, Rachel would wonder what happened to Santana. They had been best friends, they had grown up together and been inseparable, but then things changed, and it had been so long since she'd seen her face.

She would think of where Santana could be, and create grand stories in the hope that one of them was true. Rachel just wanted Santana to be healthy, safe, and happy. But knowing the girl like she did, Rachel knew the likelihood of that being true was slim to none. Especially, _especially,_ after the last time Rachel had seen her. It had been seven years, yet Rachel was still not over it.

Most of the time, Rachel could say with confidence that she didn't have regrets, but there was always one, one she couldn't shake. This regret had her sitting by her window, her partner asleep in bed behind her, and wondering about the girl who had fallen so in love with her, she had fallen to pieces in the process.

*0*0*

It had been an instantaneous friendship. They were the only girls in the dance class who weren't white, and that meant they needed to band together. Santana was fierce, glaring at the other girls who judged their differences, while Rachel was tolerant and tried her best to ignore their jibes and mean remarks. Together, they had each other's backs and it clicked.

They were joined at the hip, and it remained that way throughout school. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind. Their parents would joke about it, they'd laugh alone and roll their eyes the older they got, but it all rang true. They really were inseparable, and life without the other seemed so wrong.

It wasn't until high school that they encountered their first major bumps in their friendships. Their differences, which had once kept them together, were pushing them apart, and with it came uncertainty and awkwardness. They drifted, they tried to make new 'best' friends, but somehow they always found their way back.

On March 16th, when they were both fifteen, things changed for good. Rachel had paid a visit to Santana, needing the familiar face, needing advice, and the girl was ready to give it.

"Finn Hudson tried to kiss me," she whispered, looking round Santana's empty bedroom as if someone was eavesdropping.

"What?" Santana sat up straighter on her bed, her hands gripping the comforter tighter with each passing second, and she waited for more information.

"He tried to kiss me. I didn't…I turned away, but now all I can think about is what if he does it again. I know most people our age have had their first kiss, but I haven't, and I want it to be special. I don't want it to be some sloppy and wet mess beneath the bleachers after football practice where he smells foul and I'm scared of being seen. I want it to means something," she stressed, biting her lip in uncertainty.

"You want it to be special?" Santana asked, slipping off the bed and coming to a stop in front of Rachel. She nodded in reply, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of emotions she was drowning in. "Could I make it special?"

Santana's words had Rachel frowning in confusion, and then she was very aware of the lack of distance between their bodies, and how Santana had licked her lips. Could she make it special? Would kissing her best friend be good enough for her very first kiss?

Rachel couldn't see why not, and thought it was sweet Santana offered her that. It would be special because it would be with Santana, her best friend, the girl who would never hurt her. They would always have this.

Giving Santana a soft smile, Rachel licked her lips and nodded, her hand reaching out to hold hers. That was all Santana needed before a smile graced her lips and she closed the distance, carefully, slowly, allowing Rachel the time to back out. She didn't need it.

Feeling Santana's lips brush against hers, no rush, no sloppy movements, and no overwhelming sense of wetness, had Rachel smiling into the kiss, and kissing her back. Santana seemed to sense the girl opening up to it, and kissed her again, her lips moving delicately, trying not to push for more, until Rachel pulled back.

"Thank you," she whispered, her forehead leaning against Santana's. "That was perfect."

The beaming smile on Santana's lips should have been a hint, should have told her more, but Rachel was young, I, and blind to what was in front of her.

The next day, she kissed Finn Hudson under the bleachers, and the day after, Santana was suspended for punching him in the face.

*0*0*

Rachel never made the link, she never saw what her friendship with Santana was doing to the other girl. But looking back, replaying the memories in her head, she should have known there was more to it than just teenager angst and anger.

One night stuck out, a few weeks into the summer before they were heading off to college. She had been home alone, her fathers away on their summer holiday, while she packed her life up in Lima and got ready to start fresh.

Everything was going great. She was happy, she was excited, she had friends coming, and she couldn't wait for this new chapter to begin. Santana and her had found a two bedroom apartment that their parents were happy to pay for, and even Rachel's boyfriend, Finn, was making the move. Him and his step-brother, Kurt, were staying nearby. So, everything felt like it was going to fall into place in New York. They just had to get there.

The sound of voices yelling and gravel crunching beneath someone's feet had Rachel frowning in confusion, dropping her things onto the bed to be boxed later. It sounded like a brawl going on outside, and she curiously tip-toed out of her bedroom to investigate.

It only took a moment, a flash of the truck parked in her drive from the living room window to know what was going on, and she opened the door without a second thought. Noah Puckerman was trying to escort Santana back into his vehicle, and she wasn't having any of it.

"Noah, just let her come on in. It's fine!" Rachel called, stopping the two of them in their tussling.

Only when Puck dragged Santana's drunken ass up the porch could she see the extent of tonight's drinking and fighting session, and she solemnly nodded for him to bring her inside. After, somewhat roughly, depositing her on the couch, Noah made to leave.

"I tried to get her to see someone about her injuries, but she won't have any of it." She never did, so that wasn't surprising. "She's not started crying yet, either."

"Where did you find her?"

"Walking home, so I don't know where she's been, or who she was fighting with. She won't say." Noah shrugged and shot Santana a look from the door, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Thanks, I can take it from here."

"You sure?"

"I've got it." And she did, she was a pro at this. Santana had been fighting everyone and everything for the last three years, so in turn, Rachel had perfected the art of fixing her up afterwards.

"If you need me, let me know." The worry in his eyes was sweet, but unnecessary. She could cope.

"Will do. Goodnight, Noah."

After locking the door behind him, Rachel immediately went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. Then, she fetched the first aid kit her fathers kept in the kitchen in case of culinary incidents. Only with both in hand did she return to assess this evening's mess.

Santana was sitting up on the couch, her eyes off into space, a dark look across her face, and Rachel ached seeing her so broken and wounded. She didn't know when it had happened, and why, but somewhere along the way, the carefree and loving girl she called her best friend had become bitter, angry and solemn. It saddened her, but she had no idea what to do.

All she could do was patch her up and ask that she stopped. It was part of the routine.

Taking a seat on the coffee table, Rachel survey the busted lip, the bruising black eye and cheek, and the cut on Santana's eyebrow, before judging what needed to be tackled first. Having a quick look at Santana's knuckles, she knew they would bruise and the cuts needed cleaning, so set about that first.

With the cuts clean, and Santana still avoiding eye contact, Rachel picked up the ice pack and gently turned her face to look at her. Santana's eyes bore straight into hers, making goose bumps appear on her skin, and the hairs stand on the back of her neck. She was never prepared for the sadness in those eyes.

"You have to stop fighting," Rachel whispered, gently icing the bruising coming up on her cheek first. "You're worrying me." Understatement of the century.

"Sorry," Santana gurgled out, the shame seeping into her eyes as Rachel watched her glance away.

It was obvious to Rachel, and no one else, that Santana didn't mean to disappoint her, and she didn't mean to constantly fuck up. She just couldn't help herself at times. She was on a train of self-destruction and the last stop was the morgue, which she seemed keen to land in. Santana never spoke about why she fought, why she drank excessively, and Rachel had stopped asking. It was just something that happened now; something she was used to.

All Rachel wanted was for Santana to stop hurting herself in an attempt to make whatever she had bottled up inside go away. While she was sure getting punched in the face or thrown across a bar worked wonders, it was most definitely the wrong way to go about things.

"Don't apologise, just don't do it." It was that simple, in Rachel's eyes, but never that easy for Santana.

"I'll tries," she answered, running her fingers over her knuckles anxiously.

"I don't know what I'd do if anything serious happened to you," Rachel confessed, hating the very thought.

"S'do you love me?" Santana asked, lifting her head to really look at Rachel again.

"Do you really need to ask?" Rachel replied, moving the ice pack up to her temple.

Santana nodded once before looking away, tears welling in her eyes, and Rachel knew she had miscalculated somewhere along the way. At the time, she brushed it off as the booze affecting the other girl, of her breaking down into her normal weepy self, but looking back, it was so much more than that.

It only made sense then, a day after that conversation, Santana sustained two broken ribs and a broken wrist. After all, if she couldn't fight the emotions inside, she'd fight everyone on the outside.

*0*0*

Rachel, and everyone else, had hoped New York would change Santana. They hoped she'd realise she couldn't keep picking fights and getting drunk. And at first, that was true. Those first few months tucked up in their apartment were perfect.

Santana was back to her normal self, hardly drinking, no fighting, and being the girl Rachel knew and loved. She had her best friend back, and they were getting on great. It was fantastic. They'd order in food, watch movies, and bitch about their classes. Or, they'd go out, just the two of them, and revel in the city they were both falling in love with.

Yes, Rachel would go out with Finn, and they'd have date nights, and she would stay at his sometimes, but when she came back, Santana was fine. Normally, Rachel would catch a brunette sneaking out of her room, an embarrassed look on their face, and her roommate wouldn't rise until after noon. So everything seemed to be going good.

They were even talking about next year, maybe getting a bigger place and rooming with Kurt and Finn. It had been Rachel's suggestion, as she didn't like the commute to and from her boyfriend's place, but that conversation had gone down fine.

Now she knew, twenty-twenty hindsight vision, that this conversation was the tipping point for New York. Santana could pretend all she wanted, but then Rachel would slap her with reality, and the house of cards would come tumbling down.

Drunken fights with strangers, falling over in a boozy mess, crying and sobbing at three in the morning for no reason after being out, and a slew of girls coming in and out, their brown hair never above their shoulders, and their short stature presenting her with a truth she didn't want to admit at nineteen.

Other people had seen the change in Santana, though, and after years of it, they were sick. They were done, and they wanted her to be done, too.

"Why do you even put up with her? She's a mess," Finn said, sitting on the end of Rachel's bed after being woken by Santana's entrance at four in the morning. Understandably so, he was pissed off.

"She's misunderstood," she replied, shutting the door behind her and hoping that Santana would stay in her room.

Rachel had put the wastebasket by her bed, a glass of water on her bedside table, and had stripped her down before putting comfortable clothes on her body. The girl should be set. But it was never that easy. Rachel was just thankful she hadn't come home with any injuries. Finn would have lost it.

"God, Rachel, pull your head out of the sky for one moment please. This isn't a fairy tale. This is reality, and realistically, I'm telling you that she is dangerous." Normally, Finn stayed out of it. He would shake his head on the side-lines, and give Rachel sad smiles in sorrow, but never did he mention it, never did he bring it up.

"She's not dangerous," she scoffed, ignoring her boyfriend's words.

"She is. She's violent-" he began, using his fingers to list every fault he deemed her best friend to have.

"Never with me!" Never once had Santana lashed out at her. Usually she was worn out by then, but still, Rachel had never felt in any risk or unsafe. Santana would never hurt her.

"She's a drunk-"

"She is not!" God, hearing her being called that made Rachel's heart ache.

"She's incapable of ever showing any emotions-" he continued.

"She shows them to me!"

"And she has no aspirations to make anything of herself."

"She does! Just like you and me, she has goals and dreams."

"Well she never tries to achieve them-" Finn answered, only to be cut off again.

"What would you know? You haven't taken the time to get to know her."

"I don't need to take the time. We went to school together, I knew enough of her there. She's always been like this, and she's not changing. Why can't you see that she's only dragging you down? How many more times do you need to clean up her cuts and bruises, or carry her drunken body to bed? She needs to grow up."

Finn had a point, a very valid point, but Rachel wasn't going to listen to it. He was wrong because she was her best friend, and he should have known better to push on that issue. She was never going to side against her best friend, not after everything Santana had done for her.

"You don't know her so I ask that you don't judge her," Rachel said, finally.

Finn just gave her a sad look before settling down on the bed, to go back to sleep. She joined him, and together, they fell asleep on opposite ends of the bed, their backs to each other, and at a stalemate.

Rachel hoped that incident would remain behind her, and the following morning after she had shown Finn out, she took a seat in the living room and dropped her head into her hands. It had been a long night and she needed some rest.

"You shouldn't defend me," Santana had declared, startling from her thoughts, and Rachel saw her standing in the kitchen, holding a glass of water in one hand and rubbing the back of her neck with the other.

Her words seemed so foreign to Rachel, so wrong, that she sat there frowning.

"Why not?" Santana looked up at her and shook her head, sighing softly.

"I'm not worth it."

It was as simple as that to her, and she walked out the kitchen, her feet padding on the floor as she headed up the hall.

Rachel was left taken aback, and at that point she wondered why she was trying so hard to help a girl who didn't help herself.

*0*0*

Things deteriorated after that. Santana continued to fly off the rails, dropping out of college, and drinking herself into a broken mess. Rachel was confused and hurt at her friend's self-destruction, but didn't know how to help.

Santana ended up making the right decision for the both of them.

"It's not working anymore, is it?" she asked, taking a seat on the couch next to Rachel as she finished up writing notes.

"It wasn't meant to be like this," Rachel then admitted, shaking her head as she fought back the defeated emotions she had been masking.

"I'll pack my things and be out of here soon. My parents have paid everything in full, so don't worry about rent."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Rachel watched Santana shrug, and grew annoyed with her blasé attitude. It wasn't helping, and she hated it.

"But I do worry about you, Santana. I do worry!" Santana looked startled by her little outburst, her hands slapping her knees, but only for s second before she shrugged again.

"And that's the problem, Rach" she whispered, tears in her eyes, her stare almost vacant and mechanical as she turned away to go to her room.

They were officially going their separate ways, and Rachel hated the very thought of it. She was losing her best friend, and she had no idea why.

*0*0*

It wasn't long before they were two strangers living side by side, like passing ships in the night. Rachel had thought over everything they'd been through, and couldn't understand how they'd ended up there. Someone was on hand to inform her, however.

"She's in love with you," Kurt said, sipping his coffee with a sad expression on his face.

The two of them were sitting in a café close to campus, taking a break between lectures, and she had pondered where things had gone wrong.

"I know, we're best friends," Rachel answered, waving her hand dismissively.

"No, Rachel. She is in love with you, as in head over heels in love with you," Kurt said again, shaking his head at her, really grabbing her attention with that last statement.

"What?"

"Girl has been crazy about you since she was fifteen." Rachel sunk back in her chair and took a deep breath. That couldn't be right.

"Kurt, you're wrong."

"No, I'm right. Everyone knows it. We all thought you knew. Why do you think she fights? Why do you think she drinks? Why do you think she cries after drinking? She can't handle being in love with you. It's torture for her."

"Oh God," she gasped, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

The very idea of causing Santana pain was hurtful to Rachel, but contemplating her being in love with her, all these years, never saying anything, bottling it up, agreeing to live with her. Holy fuck.

"Don't feel guilty. You haven't done anything wrong. It's not your fault," Kurt said, shrugging, as if those word were going to help.

How could Rachel not feel guilty? She should have known. She should have realised something.

"She's my best friend."

"Which is why this isn't working out. You're never going to see her as anything more, and she needs you to."

"I'm going to lose her," Rachel stated, her chest aching at the very thought.

"I think you already have."

It was an eye-awakening conversation, and it had her analysing every interaction they ever had. The playful banter, the smiles, the hugs, that first kiss, all of it meant so much more now, knowing how Santana felt. And so did the drinking, the fighting, the crying, the shame and guilt.

That night, when Rachel went to bed, she sobbed into her pillow over the sadness aching inside her for the girl sleeping across the hall. She'd always been there, always protected her, always loved Rachel, and Rachel hadn't done any of that for Santana.

*0*0*

The conversation she had Kurt was constantly playing on her mind as the days past. Every time she saw Santana, she looked at her differently, wondering what was going on in her head, wondering if what Kurt had said was really true. It still felt so foreign to her, as if he was mistaken.

Then she saw it.

Finn had brought her flowers, and had leant down to kiss her cheek, and Rachel had seen the pure agony on Santana's face. Oh, she had tried to hide it, but it was futile. The pain, the anguish at watching his lips touch her skin, was obvious for all to see. Santana then turned and retreated to her room, her door closing sharply.

She really was in love with her, and Rachel had no idea what to do about that.

*0*0*

Before Rachel could even think of talking to Santana about what was going on between them, Quinn was down from Yale to help her move out. It had happened so quickly, or at least it felt that way to Rachel, but in one morning, everything Santana had owned in that apartment was in the back of Quinn's SUV.

"That the last of your things?" Rachel heard Quinn ask from the living room. She had been hiding in the kitchen, wanting to say goodbye, but unsure how to just yet.

"Yep." Santana had sounded tired, and looked it, and Rachel shut her eyes in defeat. It didn't feel like she could do anything to help; she'd only make things worse.

"Okay, I'll just take this down to the car. Meet you down there." Grabbing the last box in hand, Quinn shouted a goodbye over the softly playing music coming from the kitchen and headed out.

Santana had been left standing in the living room of their apartment, or what was now her apartment, and Rachel heard her sigh. It wasn't meant to be like this. It really wasn't meant to be like this. Sighing herself, Rachel she ran a hand through her hair and stood up tall, listening to the sounds of Santana's feet making their way closer.

Time for goodbyes.

"That's me done," Santana stated, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"You got everything?" Rachel asked, crossing her arms over her chest, trying hard to keep the distance between them. It was all wrong, it was completely wrong. They were best friends, they were meant to always be in each other's lives. Why was that changing?

"Why, you going to chuck out anything I've left?" Santana asked.

"I actually have something of yours. You'll want it back," Rachel said, ignoring her last question.

Heading into her bedroom, Rachel opened her wardrobe door and started shuffling through her clothes to find what she was looking for. Seeing the familiar flash of red, she reached in and pulled on the rather worn t-shirt with the Cheerios and WHMS on the front in big white letters. The soft cotton beneath her fingers had her almost whining in defeat at the memories. She really didn't want to give it back, but it wasn't hers; not anymore.

Santana had originally given it to her because she had wanted to be a Cheerleader, but never made the team. The Coach hated Rachel for some reason, and she had been gutted when her name hadn't been on the list. The first thing Santana did when she received the uniform and kit was head straight to Rachel's house and had given her that t-shirt.

It had been her favourite ever since.

"Here, I figured you'd want this," Rachel said, entering the kitchen once more. It pained her to hand it over, to even offer, but she thought Santana would want it.

Apparently, Rachel had thought wrong, as Santana didn't dare move a muscle to accept it. Her eyes were glued on it, knowing instantly what it was, and then tears formed in her eyes.

"Keep it," she replied, hoarsely. "It's yours, it always has been. You deserved it."

Nodding, Rachel tried to fight back her own tears and put the t-shirt on the counter. Santana shuffled from one foot to the other, and then pointed towards the door, beginning to make her way out.

"So…I'll see you around," Santana mumbled, frowning at the words spilling from her lips. She stepped out the door, into the hallway, and turned back for Rachel's reply.

"Yeah, maybe," Rachel answered, beginning to shield herself behind the door as she went to shut it. "Take care."

It felt wrong, it felt forced, it felt physically painful, trying to close the door, but she needed to. There wasn't anything she could do. Santana was on a one way path of self-destruction, and it was all because of her. They needed to be apart.

"You, too," Santana said, hooking her bag over her shoulder and turning to make her leave.

Rachel closed the door further, but left it ajar, to see Santana walk away. A part of her brain was screaming at her to say something, to pull the girl back inside, to talk to her, to let her know that she knew and she was confused.

Rachel Berry had never been confused about her sexuality, but looking back on her memories with Santana, she realised there were times of doubt, and moments of uncertainty. They were only moments, fleeting and passing, which gave her no reason to speak up, to call Santana back, to fix this.

She couldn't help her, she'd only make her worse.

Looking up, to see if Santana had left yet, she saw her standing still, looking at her, her mask falling to pieces before Rachel's very eyes.

"I love you," she said, tears in her eyes, fear on her face.

"I know."

"No, I _love_ you, Rach," Santana repeated, trying hard to get her to understand what she meant.

"_I know._ And I'm _sorry_."

It was at that moment, Rachel truly knocked the wind out of Santana's sails, and she visibly watched her pale in front of her.

"Right," Santana mumbled, licking her lips once, her eyes dazed and unfocused. "I'll be going then."

She didn't hang around. She didn't look back over her shoulder. She didn't stop.

She walked right out of Rachel's sight, and right out of her life.

*0*0*

That was the last Rachel had seen of Santana, and despite her best efforts to keep tabs on the girl over the years, she fell of the radar. Rachel always suspected Quinn knew where she was, but every time Rachel asked her, she'd fob her off. It made Rachel think Santana had told Quinn to keep her away, so she didn't risk losing the life she had created.

She was better off without her. They were better apart.

Those were the words Rachel told herself, anyway, as she looked out over the city she loved, seven years after the fact, and wondered what if she had been bolder. What if she had kept in contact? What if she had realised that this crush, that uncertainty, was actually something much deeper, something more? What if she had realised that she had been in love with her best friend?

Where would they be now?

*0*0*


	2. Chapter 2

*0*0*

Sometimes in the dead of night, with the moon high above the city, Santana would think of Rachel. They had been best friends, they had grown up together and been inseparable but then things changed, and it had been so long since she'd seen her face in person.

Oh, Santana still saw her, she was everywhere. She was on billboards, she was in movies, she was in TV shows, she was in commercials, and she was in high demand. Like everyone predicted, Rachel Berry went on to succeed at everything she wanted and more. That was no surprise to Santana, as she had known as much since they were kids.

In that very first dance class where they became friends, Santana knew this girl was special, talented. It may have taken her years, ten more years exactly, to realise just how special the girl was, and how much Rachel meant to her, but she had always known.

There was no denying the talent in Rachel's voice, and the fact that she was loyal, trustworthy, and gorgeous to top it off, made it almost impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that she was going places. Santana could only hope, back when she was twelve and coming to the realisation that friends don't always remain that way, that she would forever be in Rachel's life.

Of course, her twelve year old self had no clue what was coming her way, and Santana would shake her head an bite back a wince at what that poor, innocent, girl would come to experience. It really should have been obvious, just like Rachel's stardom, but it hadn't been, and in doing so, Santana couldn't prepare for the train wreck that awaited herself.

*0*0*

It had started innocently enough. All the girls in her class were talking about how cute Noah Puckerman was, and Santana could only scrunch her nose up in distaste. Puck wasn't cute, he was a menace. He thought because he had a Mohawk and could steal chocolate bars from the store downtown that he was a bad boy.

It just made no sense to her.

They gossiped about him for weeks, going on and on about his good looks and how they were desperate to kiss him, but he only went after older girls. The thought of kissing brought up another barrel of issues, because truth or dare meant either doing something embarrassing or lying outright when asked 'which boy do you most want to kiss?'

Santana didn't want to kiss any boys. She didn't want them anywhere near her. Boys would mess up her friendship with Rachel. She had seen it happen, had heard from Quinn how her older sister, Frannie, wasn't speaking to her best friend because they both liked the same guy, and Santana thought that was ridiculous.

Best friends not talking because of a boy? They had to be morons. She'd never stop talking to Rachel because of a stupid boy, especially not Noah Puckerman.

And the worst thing about that sleazy pig was that he went to temple with Rachel, and their families hung out together. He was always around her, complimenting her, and it was disgusting. Though, why it boiled her blood so, she didn't know.

She just didn't want to lose her best friend, that was it.

Or rather, it wasn't.

During another boring round of truth or dare at the grand age of thirteen, Santana came to a startling discovery. The question was so common, but for some reason, when asked, it felt different. It had been different, it hadn't been so specific, and when Santana's mind had wandered, she knew exactly who her answer would have been.

Who would you like to kiss?

It was so easy, as if the answer had been staring her in the face the whole time, and without meaning to, Santana's eyes had looked to her left at the girl she was thinking of. Rachel was oblivious, too busy wiping down the creases in her skirt to think anything of what was going on. Typically, Santana always said Puck just to shut everyone up, and that's what she did that day, too.

The thought had stuck with her, though. How could it not?

She wanted to kiss her best friend! That was huge! Her female best friend!

Yes, they were close, and they had been through everything together, but this was different. This wasn't just being friends anymore. This was being more than that. This was kissing, and possibly even dating. Kissing Rachel, dating Rachel!

It should have terrified her, but it didn't. It made her chest ache and her heart race and God, she had a crush on her best friend.

There was no other option than to bury this knowledge. No good would come of Rachel ever knowing, and that's exactly what Santana did. She buried her feelings, hid them under her questioning sexuality, and pretended like nothing had happened.

So maybe on their movie nights, when they were curled up together on the couch or in bed, she would get the overwhelming need to hold the other girl, and maybe, her eyes would linger a little bit on whatever outfit Rachel was wearing each day, and maybe her crush continued to grow, whether she liked it or not.

The two of them went on to battle high school, struggling at first but coming back together in the end, and finding their own paths within Cheerios and Glee. Their friendship was mismatched, and had they met in high school, Santana doubted them ever being friends, but they hadn't, and this was still the little girl who had stood awkwardly at the edge of the dance class while all the pretty white girls played together. This was Rachel, the girl who had never let her down, and for that, Santana could never fathom losing her friendship.

It wasn't until March 16th, when they were both fifteen, that their friendship was really put to the test, and in turn, Santana's crush.

She knew the day would come where she'd have to listen to Rachel talk about boys and crushes, but it hadn't happened, and she was thankful. But of course, Rachel had walked into her bedroom looking nervous and Santana immediately needed to know what was wrong, so she could fix it, so she could help her.

"Finn Hudson tried to kiss me," Rachel whispered, looking around like someone else was listening.

"What?" Santana sat up straighter on her bed, her hands gripping the comforter tighter with each passing second, and she waited for more information.

She had to have heard wrong. She had to have. Those words couldn't be what she thought they were.

"He tried to kiss me. I didn't…I turned away, but now all I can think about is what if he does it again. I know most people our age have had their first kiss, but I haven't, and I want it to be special. I don't want it to be some sloppy and wet mess beneath the bleachers after football practice where he smells foul and I'm scared of being seen. I want it to means something," Rachel stressed, biting her lip.

Santana tried not to whimper in pain, her eyes stinging from an onslaught of emotion she wasn't expecting, and her chest aching. Her throat felt like it was closing in, and she licked her lips and swallowed, trying to find her voice.

She knew this day was coming, she really did. She just hadn't expected her crush to have grown into adoration for the girl before her, and she hadn't expected for Rachel's words to cut her so brutally. God, she was in love with her. She was in love with her and yet Rachel was talking about Finn fucking Hudson.

But then she shuffled on her feet, and Santana realised that she was scared. She had never been kissed, had never kissed anyone, and she was worried about it. Her best friend was once again that little girl awkwardly standing off to the side in the dance class, and Santana wanted to come to her rescue again.

"You want it to be special?" she found herself asking, slipping off the bed and coming to a stop in front of her. Rachel nodded in reply, and Santana took a second to just think over the next words that were about to come out of her mouth. They could change everything, but maybe they'd actually do some good. Maybe…maybe this was her shot to show Rachel how she felt. "Could I make it special?"

Rachel frowned at Santana's words, and Santana tried not to let this deter her as she moved closer. Once within a foot of her, her eyes ghosted over Rachel's features, and God, this girl was stunning. Licking her lips, she awaited Rachel's response, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, her palms becoming clammy, and this had to be the most nerve-racking thing she'd ever done.

Giving Santana a soft smile, Rachel licked her lips and nodded, her hand reaching out to hold hers. That was all Santana needed before a smile graced her lips and she closed the distance, carefully, slowly, allowing Rachel the time to back out, just in case.

Feeling Rachel's lips against her own, Santana fought another whimper, this time for entirely different reasons. She brushed her lips against hers, taking her time to be precise, to go slow, to make this as perfect as possible; and then she felt Rachel smile into the kiss, kissing her back. Santana could feel Rachel opening up to her, kissing her again, wanting this moment to last, and then Rachel pulled back.

The butterflies were still fluttering in Santana's stomach, her heart was almost beating out of her chest, and she could feel her chest heaving as she smiled back at Rachel. It was impossible not to, not with those eyes shining so brightly at her, and that smile making her giddy.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered, her forehead leaning against hers. "That was perfect."

Unable to help herself, Santana's smiled beamed in return, and she sent a silent thanks up to whoever helped her pull that off. It could have gone horribly, and that's not even counting the kiss, but Rachel was still looking at her like she'd just come to a realisation Santana had years ago, and it filled her heart with hope.

All she wanted to do was ensure her best friend was happy, and if she got to be happy as well, that was a bonus.

Expect, that happiness didn't last, and Santana always thought of herself as an idiot for believing for one second Rachel had actually returned her feelings.

On March 17th, Rachel had broken her heart, crushed all hope, and helped seal Santana's fate. She kissed Finn fucking Hudson under the bleachers after football practice, and when Santana found out the following day, she decked the boy in rage.

As her fist connected with his face, she spat angry Spanish curses at him, and threw all her rage and pain into making him suffer. It really hadn't been his fault, but he'd kissed the girl she was in love with, and she hated knowing she'd always be the best friend, never the lover.

The suspension was completely worth it.

*0*0*

From that point on, everything went downhill.

Santana could recall those years with a forlorn expression, and she'd subconsciously run her fingers over her knuckles in the process. The happy and hopeful child of before was gone, and in its place was a lost and broken one, set out to self-destruct.

She was out of control, but she had stopped caring. She had stopped feeling altogether, in fact. As soon as she'd worked out how to acquire alcohol or steal from her parents liquor cabinet without them knowing, a welcomed numbness took over, and she no longer had to feel the devastation Rachel had left in her wake.

Santana never blamed her for the heartache, and she made sure that she was still there for the other girl. She was desperate to stay in her life, to be around and be a part of it, even if that meant listening to Rachel talk of her new boyfriend Finn, or how they just celebrated their one year anniversary, or how they'd just started having sex.

All of it, it destroyed her, piece by piece, until she just couldn't cope.

The bruised knuckles and the heavy hangover were a way of extinguishing the pain inside. If her hands hurt and her head ached, she couldn't feel the pain in her chest every time Rachel kissed Finn, or every time she told him she loved him. Her heart continued to break, and it was almost too much to handle, but if there was one thing Santana knew, she could not survive without this girl. She adored her, she belonged to her, whether Rachel realised it or not, and she could not part with her.

So yes, she drank and then went out and picked fights. She drowned herself in alcohol and broke her fingers, her ribs, her heart each night over and over again because all of it was better than having to face the fact that her best friend would never love her back.

And the worst part of all, the one that made her sob uncontrollably, was that Rachel did everything in her power to help Santana. She would clean up her cuts and ice her bruises, she would nurse her after a particularly bad hangover, and she'd kiss her forehead goodnight when Santana found her way back to her.

Never once did she say enough was enough or threaten Santana to cut this out. It was if she knew that whatever Santana was dealing with was beyond Rachel's purview, and best to leave it alone. On some nights, Santana was thankful for this fact, and on others, she wasn't.

She just wanted Rachel to see her for who she was; who she had become; hopelessly in love and out of control because of it.

Their friends had no problem seeing it. They all knew. Even Rachel's boyfriend was aware of Santana's feelings for his girlfriend. And while they did try their best to help her out, encouraging her to move on, it was never enough.

They never really understood that Santana hadn't made the choice to be in love with Rachel, she had just found herself down that ditch, and she couldn't get out. She kept trying, but it was an impossible task, and the booze felt like a ladder when in fact it was a spade, and her fists felt like they were climbing, when in fact they were digging.

*0*0*

New York changed things for them, for Santana in particular, and it was the last stop on the derailing train Rachel and her had been on since March 17th, all those years ago.

It had actually felt like a fresh start for Santana, and she remembered the optimistic views she had of living with Rachel. She had hoped that being with the girl twenty four seven would maybe have Rachel seeing her in a new light, a more than a best friend light, but that wasn't the case.

She tried, for months she tried to quit her old ways. Santana stopped drinking, stopped fighting, and focused on the brunette tucked up at home, and did everything in her power to make this start the right start.

They explored the city together, and they found routines at home, with movie nights and drink nights, and if Santana squinted, she could imagine it as her life, coming home to the one she loved, the one that loved her back in return.

Then Finn Hudson would walk in their apartment, kiss his girlfriend hello, and Santana's mood would fall to pieces. Rachel would stay over at his apartment, and the silence would eat her up. She'd watch movies alone, wondering and pining after the girl who was tucked up in someone else's arms.

It was torture, which was made even worse when she began to learn what Rachel's post-sex smile looked like. She'd wear it the following day like a badge of honour, and it would crush and destroy Santana's soul.

To combat it, to act like it didn't bother her, Santana sought out her own comfort. Somehow, at the end of the night, she'd have her arms around a small brunette, each with their own story to tell, but their similarity enough to make it work.

She'd feel sick the morning afters, but they'd look at her like they knew all along, like they could see she was a lost cause, and then they'd walk out of the apartment to be forgotten about. They were filling a void, or they were meant to be, but it just wasn't working.

Santana would always end up thinking that Rachel just needed more time; needing to live in her state of denial, but even that bubble was doomed to burst. And burst it did.

Rachel innocently mentioned how next year she wanted to get a bigger place so that she could live with Finn, and most likely Kurt, too. That was when it all crashed in on Santana. The hole she'd been stuck down caved in on her, burying her beneath years of heartache, and she couldn't stop the fallout.

The alcohol numbed her, and she could drown herself in a bottle without thinking anything of it, as long as it eased the pain, anything to ease the pain. Then the fights, they released the anger, the pure agony at the injustice of the situation. And last, but not least, was the newfound appreciation for the many girls that looked like Rachel enough to have Santana kissing them soundly, and worshipping until morning.

Like the ones before them, they never lasted, and by the next night, she had enough booze in her system to find another, to drown her sorrows, and to fight her way into a broken bone. It was what she knew, the only coping method she had, and she couldn't give up on it, because that meant accepting that Rachel would never love her the same way.

But due to her actions, to her carelessness and incompetence, apartment life became strained, and Santana realised that she had turned Rachel's fun college experience into a living nightmare. It was all her fault, and she needed to rectify it.

There was nothing much left in Santana's life; having dropped out of college and devoting all her time to trying to numb herself completely. It wasn't working, but she was still trying. Only, she couldn't keep putting Rachel through that.

It wasn't her fault Santana had been unable to control her feelings, therefore she shouldn't have to be punished by enduring her presence any longer.

"It's not working anymore, is it?" Santana had asked, taking a seat on the couch next to Rachel as she finished up something for her classes.

They had been tiptoeing around each other, and it was becoming more and more obvious that there was no place in Rachel's life for Santana. They had lost that bond, the one that had them striking up conversation and becoming best friends. It had vanished into thin air.

"It wasn't meant to be like this," Rachel then admitted, shaking her head. Santana agreed, because it wasn't.

When she thought of New York, with Rachel, she certainly didn't have this picture in mind. It was that thought that had her working quickly to pull up her mask, to hide the tears in her eyes, and to act like this was the right thing to do.

"I'll pack my things and be out of here soon. My parents have paid everything in full, so don't worry about rent." She'd never leave the other girl out of house and home, and it was the least she could do.

"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked, making Santana wonder the same thing.

What was she going to do?

At the time, she didn't have a clue. She knew that she needed to leave, to let Rachel have the life she deserved, but she didn't know what that meant for her. They had always been Rachel and Santana, Santana and Rachel, and now they weren't going to be. So what did that mean for her? Where was she going to go? What was she now going to do?

Could she even do anything, or would this finally be the last nail in her coffin?

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." It was a pathetic lie, but she didn't want to worry her. Santana shrugged and pretended like this was nothing, hoping to leave it at that, but Rachel had other ideas.

"But I do worry about you, Santana. I do worry!" she cried, her hands slapping her knees loudly in frustration, which took Santana by surprise. Then Rachel shrugged her shoulders, looking away, as if she didn't know what to do next. But her words had brought up so much.

She worried, she cared, and yet it wasn't enough. It should have been enough. Friendship should have been enough for Santana. But it wasn't, and it never wold be. She was finally aware of that fact, and it made her want to break down and cry, confessing everything so she could salvage this, but it was already too late.

"And that's the problem, Rach" Santana whispered, looking off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts before making her leave.

Rachel cared and she worried and she loved Santana, but she wasn't in love with her, and she never would be.

*0*0*

Quinn came down to help Santana move out, and she had never been more thankful for keeping that friendship alive since graduating. The girl had been a lifesaver, fully aware of what Santana was going through, and offering support to help her out.

It was her who suggested Santana start fresh after moving out. She was allowing Rachel to have a fresh start, sans Santana, so why not one for herself?

It was perfectly good logic, but Santana knew that she wouldn't be able to move on without getting help. The girls, the fighting, the alcohol, all of it screamed a recipe for disaster, and when she confessed as much, Quinn was quick to think of solutions.

They were taking Santana's things from her apartment, which Quinn would take up to New Haven and house there, while Santana sought treatment. The blonde's connections had come in handy, and Santana's parents' money had helped. She was finally trying to get herself out of that ditch, and she was hopeful she could do it.

But first she had to say goodbye to Rachel, which was something she never thought she'd be doing.

They had already gone through an awkward conversation, and a moment of gut wrenching pain when Rachel tried to return Santana's old Cheerio top, before Santana admitted defeat. The t-shirt had wounded her, making her heart heavy because it felt like Rachel was trying to remove her from her memories.

That t-shirt, that silly t-shirt, was more than just Santana trying to make Rachel feel better for not making the Cheerios. It was more than a best friend trying to comfort the other while they were down. It represented everything they stood for; Santana trying to make Rachel happy, doing whatever she could for the girl she loved.

So by trying to give it back, it was almost like Rachel was saying she didn't want her love, in any capacity, and Santana couldn't stand to be in the same room as her anymore. She needed to leave before she broke down. She'd promised Quinn to see her at the car, and she intended to keep that promise, even if it was only an excuse to keep herself composed.

"So…I'll see you around," Santana mumbled, frowning at the words spilling from her lips as Rachel stood across from her, t-shirt on the counter next to them.

Heading for the door, Santana stepped out into the hallway and then turned back. She'd heard Rachel following her, to show her out, and she wondered if Rachel was going to say anything in reply.

"Yeah, maybe," Rachel answered, beginning to shield herself behind the door as she went to shut it. "Take care."

"You too."

The words stung, but Santana nodded slowly, as if letting them sink in, before turning and walking away. Her feet grew heavier with each step, and her brain was screaming at her to stop, to think this through. She was walking away, she was walking out of Rachel's life. Why the fuck was she doing that?

She hadn't tried. She hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe if she just came clean, if she confessed to having feelings for her, things would be change. Maybe Rachel felt the same way and was just scared. Maybe all Santana had to do was take a chance.

She couldn't walk out there without doing so. She'd never forgive herself if she did.

Stopping, she turned back around, and she met Rachel's gaze.

It unwound her, breaking her heart into pieces, with her love spilling out between them.

"I love you," Santana said, tears in her eyes, fear on her face. She'd gone for it, and she could only hope and pray that it worked out.

"I know," Rachel said, sounding concerned, but she must have misunderstood. This wasn't a friend saying goodbye to another. This was a friend confessing their darkest secret, casting it into the light for judgement.

"No, I _love_ you, Rach," she repeated, trying hard to get her to understand what she meant. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Rachel swallow, then she opened her mouth to speak, and just like that, it was done.

"I _know_. And I'm _sorry_."

It was at that moment, the wind was knocked out of Santana's sails, and she felt her head getting light, her vision blurry, and this excruciating ripping pain up her chest. It was almost like someone was clawing into her chest, and she wanted to fall to pieces right there and then, but she didn't dare.

"Right," she mumbled, licking her lips once, her eyes dazed and unfocused. She needed to leave, but how could she. She could hardly see, let alone walk. Rachel's concerned look, however, was enough to make her find the energy to get out of there. "I'll be going then."

She didn't hang around. She didn't look back over her shoulder. She didn't stop. She walked right out of Rachel's sight, and right out of her life. She'd tried, and she'd failed. They were never meant to be more than what they were, and Santana was never meant to remain in Rachel's life, no matter how much she wished to.

*0*0*

That was the last time Santana had seen Rachel in person, and with every new billboard and every new commercial, she couldn't help but think of her. It was impossible not to. But as she did, she felt that craving in her throat, and she'd caress her knuckles softly.

She was better off without her. They were better apart.

Those were the words Santana told herself, anyway, as she looked out over the city she loved, seven years after the fact, and wondered what if things had been different. What if they had kept in contact? What if Santana had told Rachel of her feelings sooner? What if Rachel had been in love with her, too?

Where would they be now?

*0*0*


End file.
